Scream
by Beaglicious
Summary: Greg's scared, and all Sara can do is scream. Minor character spoilers for 3x3, Let the Seller Beware. Sandles.


**Scream**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

**A/N: Eee, my first CSI fic. Terrifying. Reviews and constructive criticism always welcome. This fic was supposed to be humorous, and look what happened instead. Oh well.**

**Summary: Greg's scared, and all Sara can do is scream. Minor character spoilers for 3x3, Let the Seller Beware. Sandles angst/humor. One shot.**

The car was idling, had been idling for the last fifteen minutes in fact, and occasionally, when Sara would shift in her seat to attack his lips at a fresh angle, he would think about how he couldn't afford the gas. But then her new onslaught would overwhelm his senses, and Greg would forget about how he'd named his checking account red.

"Come up with me?" she finally whispered against his lips, refusing to separate from him for the brief moment that it took her to breathe those few words.

Reality crashed down around Greg, and he pulled back, away from Sara's swollen lips, and shut off his engine.

"Better not," he said.

Sarah crawled over the small console separating his seat from hers and pinned him against his window. Greg watched as her face approached him, wondering briefly before her mouth slammed into his how many usable prints she would leave on his window.

"Why not," she growled, her lips once more against his.

He bit on her bottom lip softly and pulled at it, before pushing his lips against hers so hard and unexpected that she nearly tumbled over. But her body ached for him just a fraction more than his did for her, and soon she had him pinned up against his window again, her second question not forgotten.

"I asked you a question," she said, and Greg's mouth left hers to find her collarbone. Sara gasped as his lips made contact, raising her face upwards to gaze out of his sunroof at the dull-grey Las Vegas morning.

Greg decided to go with humor, not yet willing despite their newfound intimacy to share his real fears. _The fear that she would go back to Grissom. The fear that he would wake up, tangled in her sheets and staring at the setting sun, to find himself alone with a note pinned on the fridge. The fear that going upstairs with her would unravel the dream that he'd been weaving ever since they'd started this morning ritual of kissing in his car. The knowledge that if she let him in, let him know her in that way, that he was a dead man walking._

"Because you're a screamer, and I know how thin the walls in your apartment are."

Sara ripped herself away from him then, and the pain his heart felt then was enough to convince him that his fears were justified. _If you can't handle not be touching her now, what are you going to do when she leaves and you can't ever touch her again? What are you going to do when she leaves you with nothing but the memory of how you felt inside her?_

"I'm a screamer?" she asked, somewhat indignant but mostly amused by his comment. "What makes you think I'm a screamer?"

Greg stalled. _Is being a screamer an insult?_ _Time for more deflective humor._

"When has Sara Sidle ever been meek and mild?"

She laughed then, and began to crawl back across the car towards him. Greg gulped, in spite of himself. Her attack this time was gentle, but no less intoxicating. Greg let loose with a whimper and closed his eyes when she nipped at his earlobe before trailing her tongue along his jawline.

"Fine," she mouthed against his throat, enchanted by the flailing pulse that beat there. She rested the tip of her tongue against it, enjoying the feel of Greg's life throbbing beneath her and relishing in the power that she had created its rapid beat.

"What makes you think you can make me scream?" She moved on to his collarbone, inflicting the same pleasurable agony on him that he'd just inflicted on her.

"Family secret," he groaned as Sara nipped at his shoulder.

Sara jerked back in surprise, staring at him until he opened his eyes. "Papa Olaf?"

Greg shook his head. "Nana Olaf."

Sara moved her mouth up to his lips and laughed. "I can't believe you and your grandma talk about things like that," she said.

"Nana Olaf's a progressive woman," he teased before biting her bottom lip again.

"Apparently too progressive for Norway," Sara reminded him. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, and Greg hissed at the heat they created. _When she moves her hands, will she leave burn marks behind?_

"Sex isn't the only thing that can bring pleasure to a woman," he groaned. "There are much more subtle ways."

"Come upstairs and show me," she breathed into his ear.

"Uh-uh," he refused again.

Sara sat back in her seat then, assuming the stubborn look he only knew too well. "I won't scream, I promise," she teased.

Greg closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. _How many times are you going to turn her down, Sanders? Are you in or not? Because if you're not, then you need to kick her out of this car right this instant. She's already ruined you, you know – given you enough of her to torment you for the rest of your days. This is what you wanted, isn't it?_

"Not like this," he mumbled out loud.

"What did you say?" she asked. Greg's eyes snapped open.

"Nothing," he said, leaning over to kiss her demurely on the lips. "Let's go."

Sara was out of the car in an instant, racing around to Greg's side to pull his leaden body out of the car and shove it against the back door. With her full form pressed against his, Greg finally gave in. _Face it, Sanders. You'll never be able to tell her no._

Greg awoke later that day in a mess of tangled sheets. He reached over for Sara, but only felt coolness where her body should have been. His heart pounded in fear. Dusk was peeking through her half-drawn blinds, turning the room's blue color into grey and black. "Sara?" he called out hesitantly, sliding out of bed and slipping into his jeans before venturing across her tiny apartment.

There was a note pinned to the fridge. Greg's throat went dry as his insides melted.

_Greg – _

_I've gone to get us some breakfast. Be back in ten minutes. Help yourself to some coffee. It's from Peet's. _

_Sara_

Greg stood in front of the fridge, trying to steady his breathing and heart rate. _She's not gone, you idiot. She just went to get breakfast._

_Yeah, but she's already broken one promise,_ he reminded himself.

_You're not actually going to count that stupid promise she made about not screaming, are you?_

_Maybe._

Greg was interrupted from his inner monologue by the sound of Sara's key turning in the door.

"Hey," she greeted him, dropping down a few grocery bags before kissing him on the lips. "Did you get the coffee started?"

"Hm? Oh, no," he said, turning away from the fridge to fiddle with her coffee maker.

The sound of plastic grocery bags crinkling nearly drowned out her next comment. "I see you found my note."

"Yeah." He finished prepping the coffee and turned around to face her. Her eyes were bright, and the glow on her cheeks wasn't because she'd been out in the sun. _Look what you did to her, Sanders. You gave her the "glow." Don't fuck it up now._

"Are you okay?" she asked, seeing his face.

"Yeah," he said, closing his eyes in surrender as her hand cupped his face. "I'm just not much of a morning person."

_Liar._

Sara kissed him gently. "Shift doesn't start for two hours," she whispered. Her words hummed against his lips. "So, do you want breakfast or… _breakfast_ first?"

Greg opened his eyes. Sara's own brown ones were twinkling with mischief. "Let's go," she said, looping her fingers through his empty belt loops and pulling him towards her. Greg's somber expression stopped her in her tracks.

"Greg, what's wrong?"

_You idiot. You're going to ruin it before she has a chance to. Nice going, Sanders._

He opened his mouth, and she laid her finger against it. "No jokes, Sanders. And don't go all broody Grissom on me either. Spit it out."

Greg noticed that somehow she'd pulled his body up against hers. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed their bodies closer together. Her hands were still entwined in his belt loops. Greg bent his head into hers and nibbled at her earlobe.

_Say it, you chicken. Tell her how scared you are. That's real manly. She'll love that._

_Pause. _

_She's still waiting, you idiot._

"Sara?"

"Mmm?" she mumbled, clearly enjoying his attention.

"I'm – I'm scared I'm going to lose you."

Sara smiled against his ear. "Only if you stop making me scream."

_Fin_


End file.
